


Around the Triskelion She Goes

by nyxienightlock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mental Illness, Reincarnation, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9551627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxienightlock/pseuds/nyxienightlock
Summary: "Fate has terrible power. You cannot escape it by wealth or war. No fort will keep it out, no ship will outrun it." —Sophocles. She knew her fate from the moment she heard her name. She's the catalyst. She's the trigger. She's the matchstick waiting to set things aflame.





	1. Be Brave

_—Krasikeva, I’m Paige “Evaine” Krasikeva._ The dark umber-haired teenager repeated the mantra mentally, taking deep breaths as her glassy, amber-brown eyes gazed at the empty music stand, mindful of the violin resting across her lap. She sighed, wondering if she’ll ever come to terms with her identity crisis. It’s not like she can talk to her parents, or _anyone_ about this without sounding crazy.

Maybe Deaton might know what to do, but then that would mean revealing herself to the supernatural world, especially the Hale Pack. Plus, he’s one cryptic bastard.

How does one approach the topic of reincarnation? How does one go about their life, carrying the pangs and aches that came hand-in-hand with the memories of their previous life, her life as _Evangeline Carter_? She swallowed back the frog in her throat.

For 15 years, her mind tore itself apart trying to decide whether she was Paige Krasikeva or Evangeline Carter. Always too mature, lost in melancholy, too advance. Always uncertain of whom exactly is in control. Evangeline had heard of Paige Krasikeva. Evangeline _knew_ Paige Krasikeva’s fate. She was the _catalyst_. The girl who lit the match, setting events into motion. The girl, who was also a _fictional character_. Supposed that was why she chose to learn the _violin_ instead of the _cello_. Maybe that’s why she went by ‘Evaine’ rather than simply Paige. Because she wasn’t just Page Krasikeva, Evangeline Carter lingered in her soul.

Going to bed one night, expecting to wake up to her alarm clock chiming its bells off for her morning lecture or her phone ringing — Mum, making sure she’s awake — only to find herself screaming, and drenched in amniotic fluid. How cruel of life to let her die at 19, in her sleep, _unnoticed_ , _alone_ and so _far_ away from home?

God, her — _Evangeline_ ’s Mum must’ve thought she just overslept. How long before she realized something was wrong? Would her roommates have noticed her absence? How long before Mum finally decided to check in on her, only to find a corpse—

 _Fuck_. Evaine bit down hard on her lip. _‘Calm down Evaine, having a panic attack at school won’t do you any good,’_ she chided herself.

Taking a long deep breath, she shoved all her anxieties aside. Evaine sent the metronome ticking. Straight back, shoulders relaxed, her body eased back into a familiar stance. She rested the maple violin on her collarbone and shoulder. The dark umber-haired teenager gently leaned her head into the chin rest and drew the first note. Rosin-waxed horsehair sung beautifully against the catguts. Her eyes vanished behind her eyelids as she let her fingers dance across the fingerboard.

_Thud. Tick. Thud. Tick. Thud._

Amber-brown eyes snapped open, gasping. The metronome continued to tick away accompanied by the arrhythmic thuds. She glanced over at the double doors. Biting down on her lip, she turned back to the empty music stand and continued playing, her hands trembling as she drew her bow across the strings. Evaine gulped, her features shadowed in pain each time the ball thumped against the vinyl floor.

Tentatively, she made her way towards the door, but dared not open it. _What if I just ignore it? What if I just stay here until they leave?_ Evaine wondered.

_Then you’ll be interfering with the timelines._

_There’s a chance that all the things that happened in Beacon Hill won’t happen_ Evaine argued.

 _Murphy’s Law. Whatever can happen,_ will _happen. Nothing good comes out of those who try to change their fate. Oedipus Rex._

_Who’s to say that he’ll fall in love with me anyway? I’m not Paige. I’m **nothing** like Paige._

_Who’s to say that he won’t?_

Evaine growled at the voice in her head.

_Who’s to say, you wouldn’t survive the bite?_

A beat. A moment. Laughter and a few more bounce of the ball, banging against the floor and locker, steel slipped into those amber-brown eyes.

* * *

“What you going to do?” His friend said, dribbling the ball just out of his reach. Derek laughed, crouched and ready to tackle it away when a scent caught his attention. _Honeysuckle, Lotus, and rain._

“Hey, do you guys mind?”

Frowning, he turned around. She was _gorgeous_ , with dark chocolate hair that tumbled down in waves, a delicate paleness highlighted by her gray-burgundy top and gray jeans. She stood there, pointing her bow at them with dark amber-brown eyes eying each one of them in annoyance. “I’m trying to practice here.”

His friends jeered at her with their ‘oos.’ A cocky smirk lifted the corners of Derek’s mouth. He clutched onto the ball in-between his hands, “How do you know we’re not trying to practice here too?

She quirked a brow and snorted. “You see, I was practicing in the music room,” she pointed with her bow, “and I’m pretty sure that basketball practice takes place in the gym.” Swinging her bow expertly, she pointed in the general direction of the gym.

“Well, I’m pretty sure basketball practice takes place anywhere you got a basketball.” He stated; this made his friends laugh. Assured, he dribbled towards her. She rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on her bow. He could practically smell the frustration and annoyance coming off from her. “See?”

Shaking her head, irked, she turned around to head back to the music room. Derek panicked for a moment and called out, “Wait. Hold on, hold on.”

She stopped but doesn’t turn around. “If you can get the ball from me… maybe I’ll stop.” He proposed.

A beat. The brunette spun on her heel, suspicion gleaming in her eyes.

“Come on.” He encouraged, bouncing the ball at a slow pace. “It’ll be easy.”

Eyes never leaving his, she moved to snatch the ball, but not quick enough thanks to his enhanced reflexes.

“Oops.” It was a little unfair, but she looked so adorable, he couldn’t help it.

He dribbled again, she tried and failed again; she bit her bottom lip. Derek dribbled around her, then between his legs. After a few moments, she walked away, returning to the music room. His friends chuckled at her pathetic attempts and turned to leave.

He watched her go, wondering if he had gone too far. His friends began to leave, all eager to head home.

“Come on lover boy.”

He ignored him, eyes still on the doors of the music room.

* * *

 Evaine picked up her violin from the chair and resumed playing. Her heart thrumming away as hard as a hummingbird’s. The adrenaline from their encounter left her hands and feet blue and trembling, but they remained steady as her fingers dart across the strings and confidently played.

She’s done her part, now it’s down to him. Maybe she got lucky and he—

“Sorry about that.”

She froze, midway through a note. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, refusing to give him his full attention. Humming her indifference, she closed her eyes to continue playing.

The amber-brown eyed girl barely got a note in before he implored, “Hey, what’s your name?”

Evaine took her violin away from her collar, holding onto it by the neck, limply by her side, “I’m trying to practice,” she reminded him, rolling her neck and shoulders, getting the creeks out, “if you didn’t notice.”

“Okay.” He closed the distance between them, “I’ll leave you alone, then…” Evaine relief was brief, vanished as quickly as it rose, “after you tell me your name.”

Frustrated, she shot him look that unquestionably said: ‘are you kidding me?’ He smiled, with the right corner of his lips curled upwards.

She lets out a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll tell you my name, _if_ you can play one instrument in this room.” Evaine gestured with her bow.

“One?”

“Just _one_.” She stated.

“Any one of them?”

She quirked a brow.

Derek walked over to the rack, looking a little nervous at the sight of all the instruments. Evaine sat down on the chair, resting her violin on her lap and bow on her shoulders, waiting for him to make his choice.

After a moment of consideration, he picked one but hid it behind his back. She let her head lull to the right as he approached. Standing in front of her, he pulled out a triangle and struck a note.

“Damn.” She cursed; the amber-brown eyed girl had completely forgotten that it was a triangle. “My name is Paige, but I go by Evaine.” She stood up and places the violin back on her collarbone, “Now, please make yourself scarce, I have to practice.” She had hoped he’d just leave, but lucky simply wasn’t on her side today.

“My name is—”

“I know who you are,” Evaine commented, looking into his eyes. Hazel meeting amber-brown.

He smirked, brows raised cockily as he turned to finally leave.

Evaine didn’t realize she was holding her breath until those double doors swung shut.


	2. Stalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Derek's stalking days

And thus, Derek’s stalking days began. Not as subtle as his future self will be, but then again Evaine was expecting it. Realizing that they share a handful of classes, he had taken to either sitting behind or next to her, moving away from his friends with a shrug and cheeky smirk. So far, she was ignoring his persisting presence and efforts.

Thankfully, he restricted himself to following her at school, although who was to say that he doesn’t follow her after school too? There must be some heightened werewolf perks he used for ulterior motives to his advantage.

The dark umber-haired teenager was having lunch in the cafeteria, sitting underneath the glare of the sun, and enjoying the warmth it radiated while reading _The Bloody Chamber._ Appropriate, considering. Halfway through _The Company of Wolves_ , Derek and his group of misfits tumbled through those double doors accompanied by the thuds of basketballs. Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of cola and continued reading, wondering what he’d do next.

* * *

 Derek wanted to bash his head against the wall, desperately. But then he’d had to explain the cracks left behind from his attempts at regaining his sanity. Ever since he met violin girl — _Evaine_ — his wolf was at an all time mellow.

He’s always had a problem with control, even with his Uncle Peter teaching him to use anger as an anchor with the help of the triskele, but nothing seemed to be working.

Until, he met _Evaine_.

Even Peter called him out on it.

* * *

_"Violin Girl has you on a leash, and she doesn't even know it." Peter chuckled, shaking his head._

_"Evaine, her name is Evaine." Derek grumbled._

_"See!" He cried, "Oh my god, you're behaving like a_ puppy."

_"Shut up." The young wolf shot his uncle a piercing glare, but Peter threw his head back and laughed, his entire body quaking._

_"An adorable little pup. I see a Labrador." Derek continued to protest against Peter's jest but he pushed on, “wagging his adorable little tail, pouting with those big wolfie eyes of yours begging for attention—"_

_"Shut up Uncle Peter!" He growled, eyes flashing amber before vanishing with a blink._

_Peter quirked a brow, "Come on, you know I'm only kidding." He smiled, "I think it's about time_ someone _caught your attention..." he trailed off; brows furrowing as he turned to his nephew. He gave him the one over with a critical eye._

_"What?" Derek's eyes narrowed at his Uncle's inquisitive glint._

_"There's something different about you."_

_Derek frowned, "Different? What?"_

_The older werewolf hummed, "I don't know." Derek saw something flicker in Peter's eyes before he gave him a shrug, "Never mind, probably nothing."_

* * *

 Evaine let out an exasperated groan. “I give you my name, and now you’re stalking me?” Shifting her satchel and violin case, she threw a glare over her shoulder.

“Who says I’m stalking you?” Derek said, false innocence and cockiness. He gave her a one-shoulder shrug as he bounced the ball.

She scoffed, “Says me.” Pursing her lips, she closed the gap between them and not so gently shoved her violin into his chest. Caught off guard, he stumbled back a step. “What would you call following me twenty paces back, moving closer to my seat in class and sitting outside the music room?”

A flash of surprise crossed his face but was instantly replaced as the corner of his lip curled up into that infamous smirk of his. It reminded her of Peter’s own devious looking smirk. Derek must’ve learned it from him. _Thank god_ she didn’t have to deal with him. “Being a friendly classmate?”

“Stalking means to harass or persecute with unwanted and obsessive attention.” She recited, eyes never leaving his. “Or, to pursue or approach _stealthily_ , which you _failed_ , by the way.”

Derek hazel-green eyes widen in surprised, “H-How? W-What?”

With a smug grin, beaming across her face, she turned on her heel and walk away. “Work harder on being more stealthy Hale, I saw you coming miles away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Came up with this idea a week ago
> 
> not quite sure where this will go
> 
> crosspost on FF.net under S. Apolloymi


	3. Honeysuckle, Lotus and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia Hale learns about her son's stalker tendency

Derek slumped down into the kitchen stool, and start banging his head on the island tabletop. “I — _thud_ — am — _thud_ —an — _thud_ — idiot.” He groaned with each thud.

“ _Woah_! Hey, take it easy on the marble Derek.”

Forehead on the table, the basketball player glanced out of the corner of his eye. There was his mother, leaning against the doorway with a bemused grin on her lips.

Talia Hale. His mother. The Alpha Female of the biggest pack on the Western Coast, the Hale Pack. She was exceptionally powerful, able to fully shapeshift, which was rare ability amongst the supernatural world. Well-respected and trusted, she became the leader, someone the packs went to for advice and guidance, keeping the peace that resided over Beacon Hills for centuries.

Her son moaned and continued to hit his head, grumbling underneath his breath.

“Derek is brooding over _Violin Girl_.” Laura snickered, entering the kitchen and tossing her backpack onto the other tabletop.

“ _No I’_ _m_ _not_!” He protested, shooting his sister a venomous glare.

Talia’s brown eyes flickered between her son and daughter. “Oh? And who is this _‘_ _violin_ _girl_ _’_?” She walked over to Derek and rests her elbows on the island tabletop. “Why haven’t I heard of her?”

“Because she’s a girl he’s stalking at school,” Peter answered, smirking into his can of soda.

“Shut up Peter—”

“ _Language_!” Talia interrupted, before her brother and son got into a fight. Too many hormonal-testosterones fueled teenagers in this Pack House. Hopefully, Laura will know how to wrangle these mischievous wolves when her time comes.

The Alpha female frowned at her younger brother, “Peter, you should know better by now.” Peter visibly flinched at his sister and Alpha’s disappointment. He shot her a sheepish smile. Rolling her eyes, she returned her attention back to her son, whose forehead seemed glued to the marble, but she spotted the redness in the tip of his ears. She didn’t need her enhanced sense of smell to see that he was a little embarrassed.

“Now Derek,” she began, keeping her voice calm and steady, “Explain this to me. Use your words: why are you stalking her?”

He grumbled under his breath, his response inaudible, even to werewolves’ ears.

“What was that sweetie?” She leaned closer.

Whimpering quietly, he lifted up his head but look her in the eyes. “Because she smells nice.”

Talia’s eyes widen as large as saucers, a little baffled. “Her scent? What does she smell like to you?”

Derek hummed ecstatically, eyes fluttering shut; he took a long, deep breath as he remembered her scent. “Honeysuckles, Lotus, and rain.”

“Honeysuckle, really?” Laura asked, brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“How did you know it was honeysuckle? You know some people can’t smell honeysuckle.” Peter commented.

A beat. “I don’t really know. Just knew it was honeysuckle.” He admitted.

Talia wondered too; you can find out a lot about someone by their scent. Chemoreceptors are essential for supernatural creatures, helping them interpret emotions and uncover truths from lies.

Honeysuckle is a rare scent for a human to possess _naturally_. The Alpha remembered her talks with Alan Deaton, their emissary, regarding herbs and flowers. Honeysuckle meant _“_ _united_ _in_ _love_ _”_ in the _Language of Flowers_ , it is also the embodiment of a love that is full of happiness, intensity and passionate as well as undying. To the Druids, it’s a vow to diligently remain true to one’s path as well as the sweetness of life. All in all, a positive omen, but Talia didn’t become the leader of the West Coast by being superficial. She knew her mythology and folklore. Every story heard should be taken with a pinch of salt; she recalled that honeysuckle also represented the ill-fated lovers: Tristan and Isolde.

On the other hand, lotus flowers ­are commonly associated with the Egyptians, Buddhism, and Hinduism. With strong associations with purity, spiritual awakenings and faithfulness, the Buddhists consider the flower as a sign of spiritual enlightenment in the wake of rebirth. Although those monks were extensive in uncovering what the different color lotuses meant. The Egyptians, similarly, believed that they were a symbolization of rebirth and death. It was rumored that in _The Book of the Dead_ , spells, and incantations speak of transforming one into a lotus, thus allowing resurrection. However, the Hindus associated it with beauty, fertility, prosperity, spirituality, and eternity. Emerging unspoiled and pure from muddy waters, it represents a wise and spiritually enlightened characteristic trait — someone who is selfless and honorable.

Rain does have connections to rebirth, but it’s more commonly connotes sadness, rejection, and despair. Rain falls upon the darkness and depression of human emotions, reflecting the forlorn and foreboding atmosphere. But at its bare basis, it is _water_ , the sustenance of life. Without water, there would be no life.

Derek groaned into his arms, “God, her scent makes my head spins.” He shot a quick glance to his Mom. “In a good way.”

“Well, sweetie,” Talia smiled softly, “that doesn’t explain why you were hitting your head against the table just now.”

“Oh, that’s because she called him out on stalking her.” Laura divulged. “Told him to work harder on being _stealthy_.”

Derek shot up and almost fell off the stool. “H-How did you know that?”

Laura grinned a smile full of teeth, “The corridors are not as empty as you think they are. Need to work on your senses little brother.”

“Well, if this girl’s sounds as good as she smells—”

“She is.” Derek insisted.

Talia glanced over to her son, who was so clearly lost in the memory of Violin Girl’s scent. “Any chance you’ll introduce us to her and does she have a name? I can’t call her Violin Girl now, can I?” She shrugged, pointing out that throughout their entire conversation, not once has Derek revealed her name.

He sighed with a hint of longing, “Her name is Paige Krasikeva, but she goes by Evaine.”

* * *

 

Paig— _Evaine_ Krasikeva. Talia Hale _does_ indeed know the girl. She volunteered at the Animal Clinic, occasionally helping Alan with his patients. How could she not have noticed? The Emissary had spoken highly to Talia regarding Evaine many times before. According to Alan, Evaine was quite gifted with the violin and her knowledge of medicinal herbs was not something to scoff at.

Heading into her study, she picked up her phone and dialed. The dialing tone rang only once before he picked up.

“Alan?”

 _“_ _Alpha_ _Hale, what can I do for you?”_ The calm, familiar voice of her emissary crackled through the phone.

“Please Alan, this isn’t official business.” She chided with a smile, “You know an Evaine Krasikeva, right?”

 _“_ _Of_ _course_ _._ _Sweet_ _girl_ _,_ _she_ _volunteers_ _at_ _the_ _clinic_ _every_ _other_ _day_ _,_ _working_ _after_ _school_ _._ _Why_ _?”_

“Derek noticed something about her.”

A pause. _“And what did young Derek say?”_

“According to Derek, she smells like honeysuckle, lotus, and rain,” Talia answered.

 _“_ _An_ _odd_ _combination_ _of scents, all highly symbolic in the supernatural world.”_

The Alpha Female sighed, “That’s what I thought too.” She ran her hand through her dark-brown hair, “I need to know, have you noticed anything strange about her?”

He sighed over the phone; Talia could just see him thinking hard. _“_ _She_ _is_ _oddly_ _mature_ _for_ _her_ _age_ _,_ _has_ _a_ _tendency_ _to_ _zone_ _out_ _sometimes_ _,_ _methodical_ _,_ _and_ _a_ _small_ _mischievous_ _streak_ _._ _Other_ _than_ _that_ _,_ _I_ _believe_ _she_ _is_ _a_ _very_ _thoughtful_ _girl_ _. She has a chance at being a veterinary as well as being a musician, given her talent with the violin.”_ He said, voice full of pride.

Talia shook her head at Alan’s enthusiasm. “Is she to be the heir to your Animal Clinic?” She teased.

Alan chuckled, _“_ _Who know? She does have a soft spot for puppies.”_


	4. Animal Clinic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under bundles of fur, and a chance

Evaine hitched her satchel higher onto her shoulder, taking another sip of her creamy, sweet cup of hazelnut latte before slipping into the Animal Clinic’s backdoor. Barely remembering to put the spare key back in its hideaway.

“Evaine, you’re just on time.”

Dr. Alan Deaton, veterinary extraordinaire who had a tendency to moonlight as a cryptic Emissary. Someone not afraid to sass a psychotic Alpha with a straight face. Throughout the entire series, his voice was always calm and steady. Not once had she ever seen him panic or squeak. Maybe it was a part of the chill-suave druid package?

“And when have I ever been late?” She dropped her satchel to the side, and gently set her violin case down beside it. “Even if I needed to grab a latte.”

Deaton signaled over to the dog kennels, “You know what to do, I’ll let you know if anything pops up.” The vet turned to the stack of files on the table, before sending her a mock stern look. “Try not to get distracted by the Malamute.”

Evaine stood to attention, giving him a two-finger salute. “Yes, Sir.”

Rolling his brown eyes, he waved her away, getting a head start on the paperwork. Evaine noticed that little twitch in the corner of his lips. With that, she skipped over to the dog kennels, hauling a bag of dog food behind her.

* * *

Derek was determined to know all there was to know about Evaine. After being called out on his dismal _stealth_ skills, he had decided to take the subtle path. Translation: using his heightened sense of hearing to eavesdrop on anyone’s conversation regarding Evaine.

The teachers had nothing but praise for her, taking Algebra II and AP Science. There was the music teacher who gushed over Evaine’s talent her dedication to the violin, sighing something about Juilliard and Royal College. Derek, personally, didn’t understand classical music and had little interest outside of the mainstream numbers, but since meeting Evaine and hearing her play? He swallowed his embarrassment when he asked his Mom find the song she played. Now, he had a few classical music CDs in his collection.

After the family discussion about Evaine a few days ago, Derek overheard his Mom. He only caught the end of the conversation, but it was enough to let him know that Evaine volunteered at the Animal Clinic. However, already called him out on stalking, this wasn’t the kind of impression he wanted to make on her.

Their first meeting wasn’t exactly ideal or great, him acting like a jerk and all, and his friends didn’t help either. Any other interaction and conversation they had were purely academic, anything he learned about her was through eavesdropping. Although, it can’t get any worse than that, could it?

With last night being a full moon, Derek couldn’t wrap his head around how far he had gotten controlling his bloodlust. These past few months were peaceful, not having to obey the call of the moon. He groaned, dragging his hand down his face.

“You’re not going to start brooding again, are you?”

Peeking through his fingers, he saw Laura standing in front of him, arms crossed and with a wicked grin that spelled trouble and teasing. Hazel green eyes met brown in a clash of amusement and annoyance. “Need a lift?”

“Lift to where?”

His sister threw him an amused glare, “Wherever violin girl is.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, grumbling. “I don't know where she is.”

She scoffed, “I know for a fact that you can sniff her out if her scent is as potent as you say it is.” The young beta growled but remained silent, refusing to rise to his sister’s bait. “Plus, I know she volunteers over at the Animal Clinic after school. As a matter of fact, she’s working there today.”

He thought about it for a moment, but honestly, did he really need to think about it?

* * *

To say Evaine was surprised when Derek showed up at the Animal Clinic was an understatement. At first, she thought he was here for Deaton, considering he was the Hale Pack Emissary, but then she remembered Derek had suspected that the Alpha was Deaton. The identities of the Emissaries were usually kept a secret, well, usually — Julia Baccari, Kali’s Emissary, future Darach and another one of Derek’s brief lovers. Maybe it varied from pack to pack?

God, he looked like an awkward puppy, fumbling about as he got used to his new home. Deaton gave him a little twitching stink eye when he came through the front doors. Derek was lucky that today was a slow day. Otherwise, this would’ve been more awkward than he could handle.

At the moment, the young Hale was awkwardly helping by feeding the cats. Deaton’s orders.

“Go easy on him,” Deaton advised. Evaine was about to protest when but gapped, brows furrowed at the sight of him prepping the scalpels in an incredibly nonchalant manner. Derek saw this as he exited the cat kennels, leaving behind a cacophony of shrieks and meows. He paused, wolf becoming deer-in-headlights.

“Go easy on him, huh?” She parroted, with a deadpan glint in her eyes. The Veterinary-Emissary replied with a serene smile and examining the bladed instrument under the headlamp before continuing to disinfect them.

* * *

 

“Hey Little Mish, how are you?” She cooed at the sight of the Alaskan Malamute-Husky mix in the kennel. The bundle of light-gray-white fur barked and yipped, jumping against the fence.

“Alright, alright,” she shook her head, “Calm down, will you?” Mish jumped her the moment she unlatched the gate. The weight of the year-old puppy made her fall onto the ground

“Need a hand?”

Laughing, she peered over Mish’s head under the assault drool and mass of fur. Derek stood in the doorway, shifted on his feet. Taking a deep breath, his eyes darted all over the place before stopping at her. Mish realizing the presence of an unknown turned and growled, hunched over her protectively. Derek instinctively responded in kind, eyes flashing a hint of amber, lips curling up a little into a growl.

“Down Mish, he’s harmless.” She soothed, running her fingers through his fur. Derek Hale, harmless — _oh the irony_. Under her touch, the malamute-husky settled down but kept his piercing gaze on him.

“Grab that sack of dog food over to your left.”

He did as she asked, hauling the giant sack of dry dog food towards them. With Mish on her heels, she moved to divvy the food out into the dog bowls and refilled their water. They worked together in a comfortable silence — at least, in her eyes it was. One by one the dogs chomped down on the food, crunches, and cracks echoing in the air.

“His name is Mish?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Evaine glanced over to the dog in question, ears perked at the mention of his name but muzzle deep into the bowl as he carried on eating. “Mish is his nickname.”

“So, Mish is short for…”

“Mieczyslaw.”

Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski, future bumbling 90lbs thorn in the side of a particular sour wolf, the underestimated human with an aluminum bat and witty sarcasm as a form of defense. It was rare to find someone whose loyalty — to his best friends and pack — _never_ wavered and remained steadfast. It did give the guy brownie points when he was in love with the same girl for almost a decade.

“Me-ches-what?”

A laugh bubbled out from her lips as she watched Derek butcher Stiles’ name. God, wasn’t that an exciting episode? The young Hale shot her a glare; she coughed. “Don’t worry about it, a lot of people can’t pronounce his name.”

“You gave the dog a name people can’t pronounce?”

“It’s a good name,” she huffed, “rolls off the tongue.”

“Does _Deaton_ know how to pronounce his name?” He retorted

“Oh, he does,” she assured; Mish burrowed over and rested his head on “just doesn’t want to. Plus, Mish is also short for Mischief.”

Mish barked in agreement, which set off the other dogs. It wasn’t long before they were all singing. Their eyes met, after staring at each other, felt laughter bubbling up from their chest. Seeing the familiar twinkle in their eyes, they dissolved into hysterics and amusement for absolutely no reason.

* * *

 

There was only so much you could learn about someone — a _fictional character_ , no less — through a television show. There was only so much effort the directors and producers of _Teen Wolf_ could and would put into the backstory of each and every character, no matter how minor. Even the main character would have gaps in their history. It wasn’t like we spend every single waking moment with them as they go about their daily lives. We got a _glimpse_ , only when deem necessary to the story.

The TV series never revealed what their favorite food was — curly fires for Noah Stilinski —childhood memory, their likes, and dislikes… the audience saw them mostly when they were facing enemies left, right and center and very few of them living normal lives. More often, juggling their supernatural responsibilities and trying to maintain some sense of normality before their wanderlust and curiosity rear its ugly hid.

With Mish’s head on her lap, Evaine stole another glance over to Derek. She watched him play with the other dogs in the kennel, unwittingly agreeing to be their bed as they surround him. He looked like he was drowning in a rainbow of fur.

Running her fingers through Mish’s fur, their eyes met. Amber-brown to arctic-maya blue.

  _Why not?_

* * *

 

“Can you skate?”

Derek’s head shot up so fast, she thought he was going to give himself a whiplash. “W-What?”

Amused at his bafflement, she elaborated. “Skating. Do you know how to ice-skate?”

Mouth gaping open like a codfish, he sputtered about a series of sounds before nodding.

Evaine wrapped her scarf tight around her neck and tucked it into her coat. Grabbing her satchel and violin case from the corner, she threw him a grin over her shoulders. “See you at the ice-rink at five.”


	5. Snow Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date and a hint of truth

Vivian and Ivan were used to their daughter’s chaotic mood swings and her bouts of melancholy. They grew accustomed to the mellow and crisp sound of her violin, smiling as it sung throughout the house. But, these past few weeks were nothing like they’ve dealt with before. Evaine expressed her mood through her music, and all the songs she played were classical of the darker caliber: Mozart, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Bach, and Purcell.

Vivian’s worried, glazed green eyes met Ivan’s sepia-brown; they shared a look as they danced about the kitchen. The thrill of the house phone sliced through the silence. Ivan walked over to the stand and put it through the speakers.

_‘Hey, Dad.’_

“Eva, how did practice go?”

  _‘It was alright, think I finally got the hang of that tricky bar that always tripped me up.’_ She chuckled.

“The one with the thrills?” Vivian asked; gathering the ingredients she needed for dinner. Their daughter hummed in agreement. “Those bars had you tearing your hair out, last I remember.”

_‘Well, my hair will now be safe from tears.’_

“That’s good to know.” Vivian moved the house phone aside to make space on the counter.

Ivan leaned close to the phone, “Are you on your way home?”

_‘I’m heading over to the ice rink, actually.’_

“Did she say ice rink?” Vivian set the ingredients down on the counter, drying her hand on the dishcloth and then tying her brown hair back, using a hairband on her wrist.

“Why?” Vivian asked.

_‘Would you believe me if I told you I just want to skate?’_

“No.” The two adults deadpanned without moment’s hesitation, eyes bearing holes into the phone.

_‘Alright. Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I was heading down there for a date? Hypothetically, of course.’_

“ _A date_?” They chorus in unison. Ivan was about to protest when Vivian clamped her hand over his mouth, muffling his words.

“With whom?”

There was a beat of silence, _‘I-It’s not exactly a date, more like just hanging out with—”_

Vivian cut through, “What’s his name?”

_‘…Derek Hale.’_

“Talia’s boy?” Ivan’s brows almost vanished into his hairline, “The basketball player?”

“Wait,” The brown-haired woman frowned, “Isn’t he the one who interrupted you when you were practicing?”

 _‘Erm…’_ she cleared her throat, _‘maybe?’_ the lilt of their daughter’s mellow voice rose to another octave.

“Oh my God, our daughter’s finally shown an interest in someone.” Vivian squealed, over Evaine’s indignant cry, excitement bubbling in her chest.

Her daughter wasn’t like all the other girls her age, she never felt awkward when she started going through puberty, never showed any interest in anyone, concentrating her efforts on her violin and academics. Vivian accepted that her daughter was odd, possessed a level of maturity not found in ordinary teenagers as she plowed her way through school. On the other hand, this little fact pleased her husband to no ends, not having to worry about any of those _‘troublesome little boys’_ sniffing around his daughter.

This time, Ivan frowned and grumbled. “If he doesn’t behave—”

“Oh hush it, Ivan.” Vivian lightly slapped his chest. “Well, I hope you enjoy your date sweetie.”

“Fine, and I want you back before ten,” Ivan added firmly.

_‘Got it, Dad. Will do, Mum.’_

* * *

 

Evaine sat on the benches, sipping on a cup of hot chocolate; the dark sugary goodness chased the chills away. She always found it funny how the ice rink was always warmer than it was outside during the winter seasons.

She never took up ice-skating in her last life, it was something she saved for fun and solely when she was at Winter Wonderland. Going around and round in a circle, beginners and skittish skaters sticking close to the outer rim, to the railings where they can grab hold before their knees or butt slammed the ice, hard. The scent of mulled wine and cinnamon sung with the cold breeze as the people of the bustling city of London drunk on the Christmas-Winter cheer made their way through the holidays.

But this isn’t London. This is _Beacon Hills_. More than _five thousand miles_ and a _whole another_ dimension away from home—

 _Don’t think about it. Deep breaths._ Evaine muttered, _Think happy thoughts—_

The umber-haired violinist fought past the heavy memories. Ever since she decided to make the first move, had summoned the courage to set out into the hallway and confront him, her sanity was hanging by a thread. Even her parents had noticed her sudden spell of depression and agitation. It was impossible to hide.

She couldn’t help it. _Evangeline_ was always an expressive woman, that was why she went on to study Acting at Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. The raven-haired young woman studied hard and extensively, practicing in her spare time and sought out any and every opportunity to expand her skillset — to see it from every perspective. All that hard work earned her a role in Kenneth Branagh’s production of _Romeo and Juliet_. Working alongside Richard Madden, Lily James and Derek Jacobi was _indescribable_. It was strange, seeing her role models standing right in front of her, being _themselves_ and not the _characters_ she knew them as on-screen. The weeks they spent rehearsing for this production, the _shenanigans_ that went on behind the scenes and during these read-throughs as they broke the ice; it was one of the best moment of her entire life.

Standing there on stage, living and breathing the small role of Peter — or _Peta_ , in Kenneth’s world — being the comic relief along with Jacobi’s Mercutio, the playful banter… nothing could describe the adrenaline coursing through her veins and giddy glee flourishing in her heart. The industry may thrive on connections, but she gained new friends and a new family with the company of Kenneth Branagh.

Growing up as an only child, Lily became the sister Evangeline never had, teaching her the tricks and smiles of the female wiles. Through her, she met Matt Smith, who simply was her eccentric older brother, reminding her too much of the Doctor off-screen as well as on-screen. Richard, on the other hand, became the annoying Scottish older brother, who loved teasing. Jenna always ended up giving him a glare and rolling her eyes.

Derek Jacobi — _Grandpa Jacobi_ , provided her with sound advice, along with everyone else on the cast, on how to make her way through the cut-throat world of the industry. Seeing how she was a young and aspiring actress, she needed to stand out, show the producers and casting directors that she deserved the role.

It was a shame when Richard injured his ankle a few weeks into the run of the show. What Evangeline found hilarious was when his understudy, Tom Hanson, injured knee just a few weeks later. When had Romeo ever been so unlucky in winning his lady love? Hope Madden appreciated that ice buck challenge, it was uncomfortable.

A wistful smile stretched across her face, remembering her pseudo brother’s response to their ice buck challenge. Staring into her cup of hot — _lukewarm_ — chocolate, she lost herself down the memory lane of Evangeline Carter.

* * *

 

Derek arrived at the ice rink, nervous and jumpy, but stopped dead in his tracks when a Molotov cocktail of chemo-signals slammed into him harder than an avalanche. He took a deep breath, the werewolf could smell traces of Evaine’s natural scent — _honeysuckle, lotus, and rain._ Hazel-green eyes dart across the room, freezing on the sight of Evaine, smiling ruefully into her drink.

Frowning, he slowly made his way towards her.

“Hey.” He said, hesitantly.

Her head shot up, wide-eyed and startled looking so much like a frightened rabbit. She cleared her throat and gave him a tense smile, “Hey.”

“Are you alright?” He asked. Derek wanted, so badly, to pull her into his arms and ease away her fears, lighten the air of melancholy weighing her down like anchors, dredging up the seabed. But he stopped himself.

“I’m okay,” She smiled, waving away his concerns. “You ready to skate?”

Her heart skipped a beat; for a brief moment, her scent soured.

 _Liar_.

A frown threatened to break across his features, but instead, he curled his lips into a casual smile. “As ready as I’d ever be.”

Tossing her drink into the nearby bin, she hopped off the beach and headed over to the skate rental desk, but after taking a few steps, she stopped in her tracks and spun around on her heels with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

Derek felt his heart skip; Evaine wore a knitted cable cardigan over a plain pastel blue tank top with a pair of dark denim that was folded up so it wouldn’t get in the way of her pair of black military boots. Her hair was loosely braided aside, tied off with a green ribbon. But her eyes drew him in.

Her eyes, they were dark pools of cinnamon swirls, seized with honey depths of a thousand emotions flickering too fast to identify, imprisoned with the saccharine bourbon and a dash of espresso. His eyes picked up the flecks of sunlit amber and copper coins, dancing within the that shone like the cosmos of stars in the sky.

“—and you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

“No, I am.” He automatically replied as he always does whenever he got caught daydreaming.

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the right a little. “Oh really?”

“Really.” He assured.

The young werewolf knew that she wasn’t fooled; her piercing gaze shot right through him, deep into his soul. She must’ve found whatever she was looking for because she softened her gaze and offered a hand.

* * *

 

They spent a good two hours on the ice. She spent the first teaching Derek how to skate. He wasn’t too bad — sprawled out on the ice like Bambi, slipping and skidding. It took a couple of rounds sticking close to the edge and using the handrail, but he got there… eventually. She would figure that having supernatural reflexes would save him from falling flat on his ass once or twice, guess somethings can’t be translated into the ice rink. God, Evaine wished she took photos of his Bambi moment. Something to hold over him other than his deplorable stealth — _stalking_ — skills.

God, Peter was right. Young Derek Hale was so very much like Scott McCall. How he boasted that he was a ‘great bowler’ and such a terrible and awkward skater. The hand Fate dealt him affected him a lot more than Evaine realized, now that she’d experienced and spent time with this version of him.

Evaine held onto the edge of the bench, her entire body quivering in laughter, “I can’t believe you—”

Balancing on the blades, Derek hobbled over to her. Sitting down, his head fell into the palm of his hand with a groan, eyes squeezed shut. “Please don’t.”

“Y-You — fell — on top — of her!”

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose.” He protested, but it fell on deaf ears as another round of laughter erupted from within her chest.

“God, did you see the look on her face? That _stink_ eye she gave you?” She cried, “If she had it her way, you’d be twenty feet under right now.”

Derek shot her a look. Evaine stifled her laughter with coughs, but just barely.

“You said you could skate.” She stated as she unsnapped the buckles on the skates.

“I never said I could skate.” He interrupted; unfastening the buckles as quickly as he could to get the death contraption off his feet.

She narrowed her eyes, “Yes you did.”

“No, all I gave you was a nod. Never actually said I could skate.” He grinned, trying so hard not to smirk as he turned the tables on her.

“Touché.”

* * *

 

They both, unanimously and voicelessly, agreed to headed over to the little café, ordering burgers, fries, and sodas. They didn’t want the day to end, just quite yet. The pair fell into a comfortable silence, watching everybody else skate through the window as they wait for their food to arrive.

Derek observed her out of the corner of his eyes. Seeing how her eyes held a little glazed-sheen, he gave her his undivided attention, focusing every one of his senses to the girl that smelt of honeysuckle, lotus, and rain, sitting across from him.

“So how’s basketball? Practice in any more hallways?”

He rolled his eyes, “Basketball’s fine.”

“Made any improvement on your stalking skills?” She said like a casual comment regarding the weather, popping another fry into her mouth.

Derek gapped, indignant, glowering at the smirk on her lips, amber-brown eyes twinkling. There was no hiding how embarrassed and how bruised his ego felt at that little jab. Although honestly, as a werewolf he _should_ have the upper hand over her, he’s fumbling about worse than a pup.

With that, the lull at the moment was broken, and conversation flowed. They talked about everything and anything; from the Mr. Davis, the mean history teacher everybody hated to their most memorable, mischievous childhood moments that left them choking on their cups of sodas, almost snorting them out of their noses.

Their peals of laughter left their muscles aching and tears rolling from the corner of their eyes. In vain, they tried to control themselves. The teenagers weren’t aware of the attention they captured from the bystanders. Wistful smiles from the elderly and adults, quirked brows and eye rolls from the other teens.

The violinist rested her elbow on the table and leaned against the palm of her hand, body still feeling the aftereffects. Hysterics dying down, leaving behind a natural high.

At that moment, Evaine made a decision.

* * *

 

Beacon Hill Preserve looked as ominous as it every other occasion, but the late sunset set the forest on fire with a ripple of crimson-orange shining through the skeletal trees, liquid flames dancing the waltz with the winter orchestra. Evaine and Derek made their way to the picnic area, the grassy forest floor muffling their footsteps.

Less than two miles from where the Hale House stood.

This night looked a lot like the night Scott got bit.

They stood there, comfortable with the silence that clung to their shoulders accompanied by the whispering of the trees with their arms spike up, praying to the sky as the realm of woodland slept for the night.

Derek was surprisingly compliant in agreeing to her strange request. Taking a stroll through Beacon Hill Preserve at eight at night, when the sun is slowly long gone down? Now isn’t that how all horror movies began? Although, neither of them is blonde, so there goes that cliché. Maybe it was because he’s a werewolf because what can a feeble human like her can do to him?

“Do you know that the Native Americans had a name for each full moon?” she breathed, barely above a whisper that flew away with the winter-spring puff. Back turned, the violinist kept her eyes fixed on the glimmer of light, hiding behind the clouds. She waited for his reply.

Clearing his throat, he stood next to her. “Yeah, but I one name.”

“Which one?” _Did I really need to ask?_

“The Wolf Moon.” He admitted after a pause,

She hummed. _The Wolf Moon_. Of course, if there were any full moon werewolves would celebrate, it’d be The Wolf Moon, but it’s commonly known as January’s full moon although some say it’s December’s too. Still, doesn’t explain why there was a huge pack gathering when the Hale Fire happened. Definitely, couldn’t see them celebrating the Hunter’s Moon.

“I have a dissociative disorder.”

Derek’s head practically snapped towards her, she was surprised he didn’t get a whiplash from that quick action.

“The doctors are usually specific when it comes to identifying mental disorders, but since I’m a little all over the place, they decided to throw the general label my way.” She gave a small chuckle laced with bitterness, “They haven’t ruled out DID either.”

“D-DID?” He choked, not quite sure what else to say.

“Dissociative Identity Disorder.” He stared at her blankly, showing not a trace of a reaction, “It’s what used to be known as Multiple Personality Disorder.”

* * *

 

The young Hale refused to react until he had heard everything she had to say, but he couldn’t restrain the gasp that tore its way out. _DID, Multiple Personality Disorder_ … What is the appropriate reaction to a bomb like this? How does one react towards a serious topic such as this other than sitting there and listen to everything she had to say. Derek knew that mental disorders are a difficult and sensitive subject; mind crashing at a million miles, he wondered why Evaine would bring this up. Then, recognition gleamed in his eyes.

* * *

 

Evaine jumped. She took a leap of faith and spilled. In that split moment, sitting there with laughing dying on her lips, she realized that she wanted him to know the truth, half-truths — can’t exactly tell him about the whole reincarnation issue. She wanted him to know exactly what to expect if he wanted to get involve with her. She wanted him to know the snickering demons whispering in her ears, always tormenting her waking consciousness over and over: _‘you stole her life.’_

She wanted him to know how the realization of her death was a freight train that struck her down hard and fast at the tender age of three, as fury boiled through her veins at life and how merciless Fate was. How she became a feral animal, lashing out at everything and anything that came in her way, over the slightest and littlest of thing. She had dragged herself through the stages of grief; denial and isolation — **_this can’t be happening, this isn’t real, this just isn’t possible_** _—_ anger — **_what did I do? Why me? Damn Fate, damn life, damn second chances, whywhywhywhy_** _—_ depression — **_don’t look at me like that! I stole your daughter’s life! Stop being so understanding! Leave me alone! I’m not your daughter! I practically killed your daughter! What am I doing here?_** _—_ Then, acceptance… _Mum, can I learn how to play the violin?_

She wanted him to know how she lost herself in Evangeline’s memories, resurfacing to find her parents, looking at her with such concern and anguish and find days had passed during her trip into the mist. How she’ll have days that blur together and pass by in a daze and her parents — _so accepting and supportive_ — did their best, coaxing her back to reality with a smile and a cup of green tea.

So immersed into her wanderings, Evaine had no idea what was happening around her, the nerves to her senses were severed, and she lost all stimulus from the outside world. Stuck inside her head, nothing mattered anymore. Like a rock in a stream, the world rushed past her; she was drowning in Evangeline’s memories.

“—Evaine, look at me,” hands pressed to her cheeks, forcing her head up to look at Derek. “Evaine, you’re here, okay? Say it with me, _bailarina_. I’m right here, I’ll never leave you.”

No. He shouldn’t bother. Fifteen years and she still haven’t figured out who’s in control, but then again, “I shouldn’t exist.” Yes, that’s the truth. She stole Paige’s life and everything she would’ve done. When you’re dead, you _stay_ dead. You don’t get a _second chance_ and tossed into a new life carrying a shit ton of baggage from your last. It as a mercy to forget the past, forget the people you once loved and experience everything anew, not tainted by lingering ghosts of lost friends. But Life was out of mercy when Evangeline died. Fate decide to throw her into a life she knew will blaze brightly with haunting intensity, but die sooner than the measured length of the wick.

_I shouldn’t exist. This world shouldn’t exist. Why am I here? I stole her life. I stole Paige’s life. I’msosorrysosorrysorrysorrysoryy—_

“ _Bailarina_ , you’re here, with me.” Derek leaned in close and bumped his forehead to hers while he whispered. “Stay with me, _please._ ” When he leaned back, she made a little, panicked noise — _need you, need you, don’t leave, don’t leave_

She shook. Her entire body heaved and trembled, but it wasn’t because of the cold… “Derek—” he shushed her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, tucked her into the empty spaces of his body. He nuzzled into her hair, thumb rubbing soothing circles with gentle rocks.

A faint mewl clawed its way out from her chest, and her tears fell.

* * *

 

“Why are you still here Derek?” Evaine rasped, feeling bone-deep exhaustion aching all over, but her senses returned and knew that _he was still here_. “Why didn’t you leave here?” He made no attempt to move, still wrapped up around her.

“You didn’t give me a reason to.” He replied, combing his fingers through her hair. “Plus, what kind of guy would I be, if I left you in the middle of Beacon Hill Preserve all on your own? My Mum would tan my hide if I did.”

Evaine couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped her lips. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath, quietly exhaling, and then reminded him, “I’m not right in the head Derek.”

She couldn’t explain what happened back then, but she so desperately wanted— _needed_ to tell him. He doesn’t know how much darkness the future holds for him, how many years he’ll spend drowning in self-loathing and shame, clinging onto Laura, the only person he had left, only to lose her to his power-crazed Uncle Peter. To revive the Hale Pack, only to lose them, one by one… to Alphas, out of protection and by his own hand.

“So, what?” Derek asked, “Is this you trying to scare me off?”

“What if I am?” She leaned back a little, to meet his gaze. “Derek, you have _no idea_ what you’re signing yourself up for with me.”

A frown creased his features, he rested his forehead against hers. “Why don’t you let me decide that for myself?”

Derek’s eyes bore into hers, searching, unwavering. His eyes gave the barest of flickers, down to her lips then back to her eyes. Their noses He hesitantly brushed his lips against hers, so light of a caress that she barely felt it. Taking silence as a tentative acceptance, he kissed her. Derek kissed her, and the world fell away, obliterating every single demon lurking in her mind. It was chaste, slow and comforting in so many ways that reality isn’t. Her worries were drained away, cleansing her twisted soul like a refreshing summer shower, laced with electrifying thunderstorms to counter the blistering heat. His hands rested below her ear, thumb caressing her cheeks as their breaths mingled.

Impatience and hunger hid in the undertone, but there was no rush, suspended in time, locked into the moment, Evaine had no desire for the kiss to end. With her hand resting on his back, she ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until they couldn’t tell where they began and end. Heat bloomed everywhere he touched, from her lips to the shy wandering hands through layers of clothing. The nervous thrumming of his beating heart against her chest soothed her nerves; drunk on endorphins, Derek’s hand slipped underneath her jacket and rested on the small of her back. Within moments, the uncertain soft touch became confident and firm, it anchored her to the present. He was savoring her lips, and the quickening of her breaths as she stifled the gasps, taking a gulp of much-needed air before they came together for another.

Euphoric bliss, liquid warmth and intoxicating giddiness, a kiss like this was an unspoken promise, a promise of much more to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Came up with this idea a week ago
> 
> not quite sure where this will go
> 
> crosspost on FF.net under S. Apolloymi


End file.
